


Shite Happens

by LeviSqueaks



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: "We thought it was a good idea at the time", I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Infidelity, It was not a good fucking idea, It's hot before it's gross then Marsali saves it, M/M, Outlander Bingo 2020, Public Sex, Sex in the Privy, Shit, Sneaking Around, Well it was a fucking idea, also vomiting, don't read this while you're eating, no seriously there is graphic details of shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:27:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23824564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeviSqueaks/pseuds/LeviSqueaks
Summary: When young Ian returns to the family from his time with the Mohawk, he and Fergus rekindle what they had once had in Edinburgh. Overtaken with seeing each other again, they make a choice that has dire consequences. But desperate times call for questionable choices, will they regret theirs? Written for the Outlander Bingo 2020 Challenge for Drivablecar.
Relationships: Fergus Fraser/Ian Fraser Murray, Fergus Fraser/Marsali McKimmie Fraser (background/established)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 21
Collections: Outlander Bingo Challenge





	Shite Happens

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Drivablecar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drivablecar/gifts).



> Written for the lovely and amazing Drivablecar who's love for Wee Ian should be rewarded with fic!

Ian’s dubious expression was quickly hidden by the closing of the door. The air was thick and unpleasant and he let loose one of those delightfully disdainful Scottish noises that Fergus loved to hear. “Och, shite… it smells worse than Uncle Jamie after too many of Auntie Claire’s vegetables,” Ian grumbled. 

Fergus felt his lips curl up in a smirk as Ian shifted in the limited space. Fergus let his hands reach out, grabbing and dragging the younger man to him, reveling at the quick inhalation before his lips found Ian’s. It had been years since they had done this, spent hours in the nights wrapped in each other when they were meant to be carrying out some plot or plan of Jamie’s. It had been too long since Fergus had the ability to let his hands roam the strong, lithe body of the man before him. 

True, he had married Marsali and gladly. He was enraptured with his wife and their growing family. But he had missed this, missed the way that he could wrap himself around Ian without care or gentleness. Ian stumbled a bit as he threw himself against Fergus, eager and hot lips cresting over his own. Fergus allowed his own arms to wrap tight around the younger man, stumbling back against the door of the privy and letting the wall hold them both up as his hands glided down over the strong back. There were muscles there, corded and taut that hadn’t been present the last time he had taken Ian to his bed. 

Ian pulled away to mouth across Fergus’s jaw and dark eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of warm kisses that left cooling trails in their wake, “You needna keep yer hands so delicate on me, Fergus. Ye cannae hurt me, and ye ken I like it when ye lose that French air about ye,” Ian growled against Fergus’s throat. 

Fergus loosed a soft chuckle and reached down to grab Ian’s arse, dragging him up so that a thick thigh planted itself around his own. He cradled Ian’s ass with the fake hand, holding him steady while he nipped at Ian’s ear; his hand wandering forward to cup the younger man’s cock and wrapping long fingers around the cloth-covered length. “Hmm,” he agreed wordlessly, “you do seem rather, eager for me. Perhaps I should reacquaint you with my cock right here, hmm? Let you bite down on my hand while I fuck you? Would you be able to keep quiet enough so that the family doesn’t hear you? I cannot imagine what Mi'lord would think to find us here. Never mind my wife.” 

Ian growled and reached down impatiently to unbutton Fergus’ pants. Fergus let his head rest back against the wall as the cool air rushed over his cock, standing stiff and leaking as Ian shoved breeches out of the way and wrapped his hand around it. Fergus wanted to stay quiet, wanted to keep his composure, but it wasn’t going to happen after the excitement of having Ian so close again. A moan tumbled out of him, and in the dim light he could see Ian’s lips curl in satisfaction for the noise. 

Their hands were blurs against each other. Ian shoved his own breeches down so Fergus could wrap a hand around his leaking cock. Ian threw his head back and groaned, a deep rumbling noise that echoed in the small enclosure and sent the hair on the back of Fergus’ neck rising in response. “Shh!, don’t let them hear you, Mi'lord will be very displeased,” Fergus hissed quietly. 

“Fuck! Christ get in me, I dinna care if they hear, I just want yer cock in me,” Ian panted as he fumbled for a bit of grease to help finger himself open, the sound slick as Ian moaned and shoved fingers further in him, the sound enveloped in their own panting and desperate kisses. 

“Where did ye get that?” Fergus managed as he quickly turned them and sat balanced on the seat of the privy and dragged Ian down close for a kiss. 

Ian grunted and shifted pulling his hand free of his arse and bending to kiss him. He seemed consumed with the play of teeth and lips against his own even as he angled to reach down. He wobbled and Fergus reached out to steady him as Ian frantically dragged one of his boots off to free that leg of his breeches, kicking wide and smacking his foot into the wall before he was free of the fabric. “It’s butter, from the table. I grabbed a bit and hid it. Stop talking and fuck me!” His words were so frantic and desperate that Fergus could only laugh as Ian climbed up to straddle him on the privy seat. The wood creaked but Fergus ignored it to drag Ian flush against him, hand trailing up his hip as Ian reached beneath him to guide Fergus in. 

The stretch and hasty preparation had Ian’s head rocketing back with a strangled gasp and then a deep, reverberating moan as he sank down on Fergus’s cock. The hot, slick heat became smoother and easier after Ian lifted himself and sank down again, the heat of their bodies easing the slide. Fergus reached up to grab and tangle his hand in Ian’s hair, twisting his fingers amongst intricate braids. His hips snapped up, eager and desperate to chase the pleasure erupting along his spine and Ian appeared to be in the same mind as he bounced quicker, rougher… their movements hurried and desperate. 

Fergus let the light shine as he arched back from the kiss and watched the play of pleasure and passion across Ian’s tattooed face. His heart swelled with the pleasure of it and he groaned at the repetitive, desperate cries that Ian tried to muffle. He was beautiful like this, that wild savagery new but appreciated as he chased his pleasure. 

Ian wasn’t a boy any longer, rather a man. Powerful and fierce and Fergus loved him even more for it. “Cum for me, petite. I want to see you lose yourself,” Fergus encouraged thickly. 

Ian’s slender neck arched back in response to the goading before an ominous creak and snap filled the air and gravity dug her claws into them, yanking them and the ruined bench of the privy into the foul depths. 

Fergus cursed and shouted, cock dislodged from Ian’s arse as his back sank into the excrement. Gagging he flailed to try and grab a hold of something to keep him from sinking under. Ian hardly helped as he frantically reached up to hold onto the edge of the seat and turned to vomit, covered to his chest with the filth.   
“Merde!” Fergus managed, his own bile rising as he stood, and tried to pull himself up. With only one usable hand it was useless and he instead had to help boost Ian up over the ledge before the man reached down to drag him out. 

“Yes, it is shite. Very keen eye, Fergus,” Ian’s dry voice croaked as he lifted Fergus out. Fergus gagged again and stumbled for the door to open it, allowing cool air to rush forward. It did nothing to clear the stench but it helped Fergus keep from vomiting as he stumbled out into the grass, breeches undone and sagging down with the dank filth. 

He was ready to suggest the creek when Ian’s strangled noise alerted him to the larger, figurative pile of shit he had unwittingly stumbled into. Marsali stood in front of them, jaw set, eyes flashing and a hand cradling her expansive stomach. Fergus felt fear rush over him, a thousand terrible scenarios rushing into his mind with his cock still at half-stand and Ian without his breeches at all. Merde, he was doomed and he was about to lose his balls for this. “Ma chere,” he started and she cut him off with a quick snap of her fingers. 

“Do ye ken,” she said, eyes narrowing, “what happens when ye are eight months gone with a bairn, Fergus Fraser?” Fergus stammered and she turned her glare toward Ian. “Or ye, cousin?” she demanded firmly. “Ye have ta pish,” she hissed before either man could answer her question. 

Fergus forced himself up to sit on the grass as a loud splat of something best unnamed fell from his shoulder, causing him to heave again. Ian wretched miserably behind him in sympathy. 

“Ye ken ye were in there for fifteen minutes? Do ye ken how miserable it is to hold yer pish when ye have a bairn jumping on ye from the inside every FIVE MINUTES, FERGUS FRASER?” she shrieked. 

“Ma chere, we were just… I mean it isn’t…” Fergus stammered, put to odds with the hope that she didn’t catch what had kept them. 

“Oh I ken exactly what ye were doing in there, Fergus,” she said, her eyes gleaming as she looked them over and finally snorted with laughter. The noise startled Fergus, sudden and explosive, and Ian stumbled back behind him. She lost the last of her temper as she bent forward to laugh hysterically at the pair of them. “Christ, ye really are in a load of shite now, aren’t ye?” she cried. 

Fergus failed to actually see the humor in the situation though the tension had somewhat eased with her laughter. She wiped her eyes and stared at the privy before shaking her head as she slowly got her laughter under control. “Christ. Weel, I suppose I should make my way home to use our own privy as ye’ve made a mess of this one. Ye can explain to Da why it is the way it is,” she sniffed before shaking her head. Fergus felt a wave of relief crash over him at her seemingly easy acceptance of the act she had caught them in. 

“Ma Chere... “ he tried again but was waved away by Marsali. 

“Tis good Fergus, ye can practice filling him with a bairn and give me some reprieve for a while,” she teased before shaking her head and walking toward home. Turning, she eyed them both and smirked. “I suggest ye take yerselves to the creek first… and perhaps don’t tell Da ye were in the privy together, hmm?”

Fergus thought that was very sound advice. 

Fin.


End file.
